


Want

by Calacious



Series: Masochism [3]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Fantasizing, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, masturbation in the ocean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he takes down a perp (using what Danny deems to be 'extreme' measures) Steve can't get Danny's words out of his head: "Steven, you're a masochist." If only Danny knew just how right he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Want

**Author's Note:**

> Rather mild in comparison to the other two; mostly angst, on Steve's part. 
> 
> mas•och•ism (ms-kzm) n.
> 
> 3\. A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.
> 
> Again, feedback would be nice. Mahalo

_"You're a masochist, Steven,"_ Danny's words reverberated in Steve's head as he pushed himself to, and then past his breaking point, needing to feel something other than Danny’s anger directed at him. Needing to feel the burn of pain that Danny had accused Steve of liking when he'd taken down a perp by throwing himself at the man, from a second story window.

It wasn't working, and Steve pushed himself a little more, his lungs burning with the strain, the muscles in his arms and legs aching.

_It's not working, Steven,_ Danny's voice was sarcastic, knowing. _Because, you want me. You want me, but know you can't have me._

Danny had never said anything like that to him, and, as far as Steve knew, Danny had no clue of his more personal interest in his partner. Even so, Steve growled at his mind's version of Danny, and swallowed a mouthful of ocean water in the process.

Winded, the taste of briny salt water in his mouth, Steve made a final stroke, sending himself further out into the ocean, and then he dove beneath the surface of the water and went as deep as he could. He stayed under the water until white spots filled his vision, and his lungs felt like they were going to implode. The need for oxygen overtook him before he really wanted to go to the surface, and his head burst out of the water, like a dolphin coming up for air.

Steve gasped, swallowing down even more of the ocean’s water, and he turned toward where he knew his home was. The shore was distant – little more than a long, thin stretch of browns and greens that he could barely make out.

Feeling a little more in control of himself – the muscles of his arms and legs twitching, and aching from pushing them so hard – Steve treaded water and contemplated Danny’s words. The last words that Steve had heard from his partner before the man had thrown his hands into the air and stormed off, leaving Steve at the scene of the crime and without a ride back to the office.

When he’d arrived at headquarters, with Kono, Danny was gone – a post-it note clinging to the door of Steve’s office indicating that he’d gone to pick up his daughter, Grace, and that he’d be back, bright and early on Monday morning. It was Saturday morning now, and Steve couldn’t get those four words of Danny’s out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried, they just didn’t want to leave.

And, the way that Danny’s face had been set in hard lines, spittle flying from his lips, the red that had crept up Danny’s neck before blooming in his face – all of it had been a turn-on to Steve, and he’d been hard-pressed to actually listen to what it was that Danny had been saying. As it was, he’d only taken in a single sentence of Danny’s whole diatribe, spoken in a harsh, clipped tone, Danny’s index finger stabbing a bruise into Steve’s chest.

Steve rubbed at the spot – a dark, purpled bruise that was turning green around the edges. It still ached, or at least he imagined that it did. The imagining of it, drawing him nearer to Danny.

Sighing, Steve took a deep breath, and then swam for shore, dogged each stroke by thoughts of Danny.

_Danny stripped down to nothing but boxers, head of his swollen cock poking through the slit at the front._

_Danny, naked, hands cuffed to the headboard of Steve’s bed, blue eyes filled with lust as Steve straddled him._

_Danny, shirtless, tie hanging loosely around his neck, back muscles flexed and bulging, panting and moaning as Steve fucks him, hands splayed across the table computer, fingers entwined with Steve’s._

_Danny, crouched alongside the shore, pink bucket and shovel in hand, head turned away, facing a little girl in pigtails, musical laughter drowning out the sound of waves..._

Steve blinked, and wiped at his eyes, but the vision of Danny, and Grace, building a sandcastle – Danny dutifully filling the pink bucket with wet sand while Grace dug a moat – remained steadfast, and he vaguely recalled that Danny had asked if Grace could come over during the weekend, and that he’d agreed to it.

Steve was too far away to make out what it was that father and daughter were saying to each other, but every once in awhile, Grace or Danny’s laughter would float over the surface of the ocean to him. It made Steve’s heart do a funny, fluttery thing in his chest, seeing Danny digging in the sand.

Cursing as another member of his body reacted to seeing Danny, on his beach, carefree and laughing, Steve stopped propelling himself forward and started to tread water, shoving one hand down into his swim trunks.

Steve wrapped his fingers around his dick, and started stroking, breath coming in harsh, jagged gasps, swallowing more ocean, and sputtering, head going under as he pictured Danny – lips apple red, tongue wet and warm, licking a trail along the underside of Steve’s dick. Bobbing back up, spitting water out of his mouth, Steve established a rhythm with his hand, jerking himself off to thoughts of Danny.

When Steve came, it felt like he’d been struck by lightning and he dipped below the surface of the water and pulled himself back up, clawing his way toward the ocean’s surface. Danny’s laughter bouncing along the waves, made its way to him, and Steve saw stars – bright gold, red, and silver things. Biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound that would cause father and daughter to look up, and see their peeping Tom, Steve breathed deeply, and then resumed his homeward swim.

_Maybe I am a masochist,_ Steve thought, watching Danny play with Grace, and wishing that he could send the little girl home so that he could have Danny all to himself. _Wanting something that I cannot have, and yet inviting it over, time and time again._

Danny, on his beach, was the very definition of torture, and as Steve got his feet under himself, in the shallows, he plastered a smile on his face. Even if he couldn’t have Danny in the way that he wanted to, Steve was content to have the man in close proximity, even if it was an unpleasant, trying thing that made him ache like hell – he’d endure it, and never act on his feelings, for Danny’s and Five-0’s sake. It was a torture that he was more than willing to endure, because not having Danny in his life would be unbearable.

“Danno, Grace,” Steve greeted, and Grace ran toward him, flinging her arms around his middle. Steve bent down and wrapped his wet arms around her, planted a kiss on the top of her head, and winked at Danny.

The look on Danny’s face, something that was half-chastisement, and half love, caused Steve’s heart to flutter in his chest, and he extricated himself from Grace’s arms. Muttering an excuse about needing to take a shower, he walked away from the father and daughter with long, quick strides, tossing over his shoulder that he’d be back, and that Danny and Grace should stay for dinner – steaks on the grill, potatoes, fresh mango from his neighbor’s tree, delivered just yesterday, and salad.

He barely heard Danny’s acceptance of the invitation, and made a beeline for the shower, already hard, and aching again. The shower worked wonders on Steve’s abused muscles, and he thought once again about what Danny had called him a masochist: someone who derived pleasure from pain, who willingly put himself through unpleasant or trying experiences.

“If only you knew the half of it, Danno,” Steve whispered, his eyes catching his own reflection in the fogged bathroom mirror, latching onto the bruise Danny’s finger had left on his chest, just above his heart. “How hard it is to work beside you, and know that...”

“To know what, Steven?” Danny’s voice echoed in his head, and Steve closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the glass of the mirror.

“That I can never have you, not the way that I want to. It’s torture, Danno, that’s what it is. Fuck, I’m even daydreaming about you and I’ve got my very own inner-Danno, like Pinocchio’s Jiminy Cricket.” Steve’s throat felt dry and tight, and he almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand, warm and firm, on the back of his shoulder. He held his breath, his heart pounding like a madman in his chest.

“And now I’m hallucinating,” Steve said with a moan.

“And, apparently talking to yourself,” Danny’s voice sounded amused, and the hand moved from Steve’s shoulder down to rest on the outside of Steve’s hip, making his skin break out in gooseflesh.

“Shit, I can’t do this now, not with Danny and Grace out on the beach. Keep it together, McGarrett,” Steve said in his best imitation of Joe White’s commanding tone. It didn’t work when that hand slid lower, and lightly slapped his ass.

“Yeah, no telling what Danny would do if he knew that his super SEAL partner wanted something a little more than a strictly working partnership,” Danny’s voice was a sarcastic drawl. “He’d probably run from the premises, pulling Grace behind him, screaming like a little girl because he learned that his partner was lusting after him.”

Something about the tone of voice that his inner-Danno had used, and the way that the hand was now cupping, and lightly squeezing his ass, made Steve’s breath hitch, and he turned away from his contemplation of the salmon-colored streak that ran through his faux marble sink. He couldn’t breathe when he realized that the conversation he thought he’d been having in his head, was actually being had with the living, breathing, Danny, in the flesh.

Danny wasn’t quite smirking at him, and Steve frowned. “What the hell?”

“I thought that maybe you’d drowned,” Danny said, shrugging, his hand dropping away from Steve’s ass, a little reluctantly if the sad puppy dog look on Danny’s face was anything to go by. “Grace made me come up and check on you when your shower lasted longer than the allotted...what was it, five, or ten minutes?”

Steve blinked, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “How,” Steve swallowed. “How long?”

Danny shrugged, and smiled, tucked his hands into his back pocket as though keeping them from reaching and touching Steve. “Oh, about an hour...and a half.”

“Fuck,” Steve said, sagging against the sink.

"Yeah, not typical SEAL behavior,” Danny said. “Grace and I were worried.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fine,” Steve ground out, and he tried to push past Danny, but the man stood in his way.

“No, Steven, you are not fine,” Danny said, challenging him. “But, don’t worry, I’ll get you there.”

Steve drew in a sharp breath, aroused by the way that Danny’s voice had dipped to a lower octave. He licked his lips.

“How?” the word sounded wrecked and broken, and Steve was not above begging, pleading with Danny.

“Tonight,” Danny said. “After Grace has been tucked into bed, and sleeping soundly.”

Steve could only nod, and gulp at air.

“Get dressed, we’re having sandwiches and chips – don’t say a word Steven, a handful of chips is not going to make a dent in that six pack of yours – for lunch,” Danny said, and then he turned and walked away, his hips swaying suggestively.

Steve could only watch Danny, jaw on the floor. The soft click of his door as Danny shut it behind him spurred Steve into action, and he tamped down on the images that Danny’s promise – tonight – had brought to the forefront of his mind.

It would be torture, going through the afternoon, and the evening with Danny just out of reach, but, in the end, it would be worth it. Steve knew that in the marrow of his bones, and it had nothing to do with the fantasies that he’d been having, but with how warm and comfortable, and _right_ Danny’s hand had felt on his ass.

There was a spring to his step as Steve walked into his kitchen, the sight of Grace and Danny at work, making tuna sandwiches a welcome one. Their easy manner and laughter echoing back to him, inviting him into their inner circle, making him feel like a part of their family, and loved.


End file.
